“No, they’re not. The New York Times and The Washington Post will get their copies. There are half a dozen other people on my mailing list too.”
“Perhaps if this is so shocking we should have been the only ones to get a copy.”
“Perhaps that might have happened if you people weren’t so busy trying to arrest me for a crime I didn’t commit.”
Gordon frowned and turned to the scenery outside his window. Nick looked back through the rear windshield. Two agents were following them in a gray Cavalier, and an unknown number were behind them. They were on Highway 87 heading . . . north? Nick leaned forward and caught a road sign. If the destination was Manhattan, they were taking an awfully strange route.
“Another point,” continued Gordon. “It’s not very relevant, I suppose, but it astounds me that you didn’t simply back off. I don’t see any amount of money being worth all this trouble.”
“I had no choice, sir. You may not buy that, but it’s true. My secretary was murdered the night my home was blown to bits. People have been trying to kill me left and right ever since. From your vantage point, it may have seemed like a simple decision, but you weren’t the one being tracked and chased by men with guns.”
“What confuses me, then, is why you never went to the police. Or us.”
“The police? Come on, Mr. Gordon—what could they have done? I needed to find out what was going on, and you people certainly weren’t going to tell me anything. I had no choice but to stake out on my own.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You did have choices and you made some very poor ones. Starting with that break-in up in Hudson.”
Nick shook his head in frustration. “That may be true, sir, but what about the FBI’s poor choices? You people put all this time and effort into hunting me down when there’s been a pack of murderers running around killing completely innocent people. But I realize I must have been convenient for you in the end. A nobody, just an insignificant nothing PI who was unlucky enough to stumble onto this. Well, it’s going to be very hard sticking this entire Holtzmann mess on me. If that’s your intention, I can’t see anyone buying it.”
“That’s not our intention. We’ve begun a quiet investigation into the Von Rohr murders, as well as the double slaying in Los Angeles. I suspect we’ll link even more victims to this as the investigation progresses. We will piece this together, I assure you.”
“I think my research will point you in the right direction. Or does the FBI plan on just disregarding it?”
“I’ll give it a look,” Gordon admitted. “If this wonderful report of yours ever surfaces.”
Nick looked out and caught a road sign flying by. SARATOGA SPRINGS NEXT EXIT. They were twenty miles north of Albany now and not getting any closer to Manhattan.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
“We’re almost there. Another ten minutes.”
They sat in silence then. The prior week replayed in Nick’s head. He thought of Rose, of Alex, of Doug. He thought of all the choices made, right and wrong. The decision to bribe Lloyd Koenig, to enter Jacobs’s house, to send Rose to his apartment. Above all others, the decision to carry on what his father had begun. Every choice he had made in life had somehow led to this end. His father must have been shaking his head at that moment, looking down from some shunned corner of heaven where everyone was an heir and the bars never stopped serving.
After a long period of silence, Nick finally spoke. “So what did you give Doug Spinetti?”
Gordon tilted his head and frowned. “I don’t understand your question.”
“What did you give him? To turn me in. Did you bribe him, threaten him, what? I can’t help but be curious.”
Gordon brought his hand to his chin. “What did Director Arminger tell you?”
“He said Doug led you to me.”
Gordon looked slightly surprised by this. He finally turned to the road and shook his head slowly back and forth. “Deputy Director Arminger is a pain in the ass. He’s the only—” He stopped himself, not wishing to reveal any more genuine feelings. “Spinetti didn’t have a damn thing to do with this. Not directly anyway. If anything, it was the opposite. Your attorney charged a flight ticket to JFK but never showed for the flight. Clearly his goal was to draw us to JFK in hopes he could pass through Albany airport undetected. Not much of a plan, but probably all he could think of under such short notice. Naturally we had coverage at all the local airports. We didn’t take him in Albany because we had our eyes on a bigger target.”
“So you tailed him, then. Followed him to me . . .”
Gordon nodded. “Suffice it to say we discovered some of his past travel preferences. Avis rental cars seemed to be the company of choice. A special car was reserved for him and the rest was simple.” He looked at Nick. “Forget what the deputy director may have said. Spinetti didn’t betray you. He had no idea he was leading us to you.”
“Has he been arrested?”
“He’s being detained at the moment. Director Arminger is looking to charge him with an entire list of crimes, including conspiracy and aiding and abetting. He’s very enthusiastic about that.” He turned back to Nick. “I have a different plan. I intend to have him released shortly. I don’t see a point in pursuing a case there.”
Nick leaned his head back and let out a slow breath as a weight lifted from his shoulders. His sense of relief was almost as great as the shame he felt for doubting his friend. Doug had made the right choice. He had remained true until the very end.
They took the Glens Falls exit and headed west. The turnoff wound through thick forestland, and Nick could now see that four other cars—one in front, three in back—were in the convoy. Gordon sat silently, content to watch the scenery. There was little to see—forestland, an abandoned gas station, a few dirt roads disappearing into the hills. Nick sat back and waited.
After several minutes, the caravan took a gravel road up a slight hill that opened into a small circular lot surrounded by trees. One by one, the cars eased to a stop. Gordon turned to Nick.
“Listen closely—I’ll make this quick. If we take you back to the city and lock you up, you’ll face a long list of very serious charges. If we choose to do that, Nicholas, I feel confident you will serve at least twenty years in a penitentiary. Frankly, after the headaches you’ve caused us, I wouldn’t mind that in the least. Not one little bit, my friend. You’re not half the victim you make yourself out to be, and these half-baked stories of yours don’t win you any points in my book. Due to some very unusual circumstances, however, you’re getting one final option, and you better be damn thankful for that. Now step out of the car.”
Gordon grabbed the door handle but felt a hand close powerfully on his arm.
“I’d like to say something now, sir,” said Nick, his cheeks feeling as if they were on fire. “I never wanted to be a part of this. You talk to me about choices I should have made—well, let me tell you about the ones I didn’t make. I didn’t choose to have my home destroyed, I didn’t choose to see my friend and a client who trusted me murdered, and I didn’t choose to have you people in my life. You say I’m no victim, but I’m no criminal either. And speaking of criminals, maybe the FBI should take a long, hard look at itself before it starts pointing fingers, because I wasn’t the one who closed my eyes to this and hid this Jacobs bastard in the first place. Take a good hard look, Mr. Gordon. I’m not sure you’ll like what you see.”
He removed his hand but not the stare. Gordon looked as if he was about to reply, but instead he simply nodded slowly, almost as if he accepted this. He turned and opened his door.
“Step out of the car, please.”
Nick did as he was told. The other agents were out now as well, standing around looking sheepish. Deputy Arminger stood by himself and scowled. Nick looked at each of them slowly. Something was afoot here, and he was clueless.
“Nick!”
He couldn’t believe it was her. Alex was halfway out of the back of the
other limo. She ran to him, and he caught her in a tight embrace. He stared over her shoulder at Gordon.
“What the hell is this?”
Gordon gave a nod to one of the agents, who removed a wallet.
“Give us a minute alone,” he commanded his troops.
The agents distanced themselves. Arminger was the only one who didn’t flinch.
“Alone,” repeated Gordon, his cheeks flushing.
Slowly, Arminger backed away. He gave Nick a final glare before turning and walking off with his men. Nick nodded at Alex and followed the director. When they were alone, Gordon spoke quietly.
“There’s two thousand dollars inside your wallet, along with your fraudulent birth certificate. A driver will take you over the border to Canada. Once you get there, you’ll have two options. You can cross back over into the States, in which case you’ll promptly be arrested to face every last one of the charges I just told you about. Your second option is to keep moving. Go somewhere far away and keep your mouth shut. If you ever set foot here again, I’ll know about it, and I’ll see to it that you are put away for the rest of your life. Am I making myself clear?”
Nick managed a slow nod.
“Do you have any questions before I send you off?” Gordon asked.
Nick looked down at his wallet. He had dozens of questions, a hundred probably, but he wasn’t about to risk any one of them. He shook his head slowly.
“Your driver’s waiting for you.”
Nick turned to walk, but Gordon suddenly grabbed his forearm.
“Watch yourself,” was all the director said. He released his arm. “I want to speak to the girl for a minute.”
Nick approached the waiting car and slid into the backseat. The driver half turned to him as he started the engine. He was fiftyish with a fat crooked nose and deep wrinkles around his dark eyes. His cheeks were ruddy and newly shaven. He nodded and gave a slight smile, but Nick didn’t notice. He had swiveled to watch through the rear window as Gordon led Alex into the backseat of the limo he had ridden in. The doors closed. Were they taking her away? Maybe it was better for her if they did.
Less than a minute later, she was out. She walked quickly toward the car, then ran the last thirty yards. When she sat in the back next to him, her face was paler than he had ever seen it.
“Let’s go, driver,” she said.
“What did he say?” Nick whispered to her, but she shook her head. It would have to wait.
The driver reversed direction and gassed it. Gordon and a dozen agents stood like statues and watched solemnly. Arminger leaned over the hood of one of the limos, refusing to even look. The gravel spit and ground beneath the tires as they accelerated out of the lot and found the road.
When the car was out of sight, Director Gordon climbed into the back of the limo. His deputy director slid in from the other side before he could react.
“This is insane,” said Arminger. “I can’t believe this.”
Gordon looked exhausted and suddenly very old. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone at that moment. Especially his current company.
“I’m not happy about it,” he said. “Newland and I agreed, though. With Merchant gone, this problem disappears.”
“He tried to murder a police officer,” exclaimed Arminger, incredulously.
“And luckily for him, he failed. The officer will live, and the senator’s committee will no longer be jeopardized.”
“How do you figure that? What assurance do we have that he’ll keep his mouth shut once he’s in Canada?”
“Very little. But he would definitely talk if he was put on trial in Hudson.”
“Who exactly was driving that car?”
“It’s an agent with the New York State Department of Justice. I told Newland he would have to assume all responsibility for releasing him. Now step out of the car. I’m riding alone.”
“What did you tell the girl?”
“That doesn’t concern you,” snapped Gordon. “Step out of the car.”
“But how is—”
“Get out of the damn car!”
Arminger reluctantly exited, slamming the door behind him. Gordon instructed the driver to head south, back to Albany. The driver started the engine, then paused. Gordon leaned forward, staring through the windshield. A car was speeding up the road, flashing its headlights and heading straight for them.
CHAPTER
33
SUN MERGED INTO horizon, shooting laser beams of light over the highway. The shadows of the countryside stretched across the endless expanse of pavement. The forestland on both sides of the road was turning black with the end of the day.
They had driven for five minutes in complete silence. Nick was studying the back of the driver’s neck as he struggled to bring a semblance of sense to it all. It was impossible. What had just happened didn’t add up. He could not believe in any way, shape, or form that they were being set free. And that was what was now frightening him.
He sneaked a sideways look at Alex. She was staring ahead, refusing to look back at him. Her hands were wrapped together, her knuckles white. She gave him a quick glance and mouthed something he couldn’t understand, and at that moment he could see it clearly in her eyes. She was scared, so afraid she could barely turn her head to him. She was keeping something to herself, something he had perhaps missed, and whatever it was was terrifying her.
Nick turned to the driver. “Where are we going?” he asked.
The dark eyes rose to the rearview mirror.
“Where are you taking us?” he repeated.
“Good evening to you too,” Kragen said amiably. “I’m taking you to the Canadian border. Didn’t they tell you?”
“Not everything,” replied Nick. “Who are you anyway?”
“Nobody important, although I suppose you could say I’m your best friend tonight. I’m with the New York State Department of Justice. You’ve got nothing to be concerned about. In just a little while, you’ll be on your way. There’s a car waiting for you over the border, then it’ll be up to you to lose yourself.” He glanced back at the mirror. “I don’t know who you know, friend, but they’ve got serious pull. This thing’s been a real headache for everybody.”
“Who exactly do you work for?”
“We don’t need to bother with that. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You’ll be on your way in just a little while.”
Nick watched the woods stream by and considered the situation. If they truly were being sent on their way, why didn’t the FBI take them to the border? Perhaps this transfer was their way of washing their hands of it. But did the feds have the power to do a switch like this? Most incredible of all, did whoever wanted him released actually trust him to keep his mouth shut once he was gone? If they wanted that assurance unequivocally, there was really only one way they could get it.
He glanced back through the windshield again. Rush hour traffic was lessening. Was it paranoia or was the dark blue car one hundred yards behind following them?
There was ten minutes of tense silence before a phone in the front seat began to ring. Kragen pulled it from his coat pocket.
“Yes . . . right . . . north of Glens Falls . . . good . . . appreciate it.” He hung up.
“Who was that?” demanded Nick.
“Supervisor. Just making sure we’re on track here.”
Nick sensed this was a lie. It had been too careful a conversation, with quick, one-word responses. Completely unrevealing. The driver’s hands were wrapped tightly around the wheel. Nick noticed his rough, powerful fingers. He noticed something else as well. The little finger of the right hand was missing.
Arminger ejected the tape and quickly reached for the sheaf of papers. Gordon was simply sitting back, a stunned look on his face. He felt as if he might get sick right there on the leather seats of the limousine.
“Holtzmann,” said Arminger, flipping through pages. “Ludwig Holtzmann. I don’t see any mention of Martin Schmidt.”
“Maybe b
ecause there is no Martin Schmidt,” said Gordon, his head back. “Dear God, I knew it. I knew it in the Oval Office. Goddamnit—something wasn’t right.”
“So you actually believe all of this?”
“I believe enough of it.” Gordon grabbed his phone. “I want every police car and highway patrolman from here to Canada alerted. We have to stop that car!”
The road signs flew by like green tombstones: WARRENSBURG, CHESTERTOWN, POTTERSVILLE, SEVERANCE. The rays of the fallen sun were withdrawing in defeat.
Nick was concentrating on the back of the driver’s head when it suddenly came together for him. Gordon’s words surged through him like electricity. He could feel the hair stand on the back of his neck as his breathing picked up. Was he crazy, or did the director’s parting words suddenly make sense?
Traffic had thinned on the highway. Nick checked his watch. It was five-thirty. The flight was scheduled for six and they were now nearly an hour north of the airfield. Something had to be done now.
“I need you to pull over,” he said.
Nick saw the driver’s eyebrows rise in the rearview mirror.
“What’s that?”
“Nature’s calling. Pull over.”
“What? Merchant, I’ve got my—”
“Look, we’re still a long ways from the border,” Nick said. “I can’t possibly wait. Pull the damn car over. I’m not going anywhere.”
Kragen thought for a second, then clicked the turn signal and pulled slowly onto the gravel lip lining the freeway. Nick could see the edge of the road dip down a slope and lead to a cluster of trees twenty feet beyond.
“Just make it quick,” Kragen grumbled. “We’re on a timetable here.”
Nick nodded to Alex and ducked out of the car quickly. The slope was gravelly and loose, perfect for a nicely choreographed slip. He reached the bottom of the hill and slid down nicely to a knee, grabbing and placing a golfball-sized rock into his coat pocket. He threw a look back as he approached the trees. Kragen had stepped halfway out of the car and was watching him closely, his hands in his coat pockets. Nick positioned himself behind a tree, pissing air. Nightfall was almost on them now, and the sooner the better for what he was about to do.
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